Am I Really Blue?
by Spara
Summary: A somewhat philosophical look at what Zarbon was thinking in the final moments of his life.


Am I Really Blue?

Death.

The ironic thing is that wise men fear it as much as primitive men. All men between are nothing more than arrogant fools. Five seconds ago, guess what category I fit in. 

A burning explosion filled my abdomen as vital organs were incinerated instantly. I stared in shock upon my murderer and the look on his face frightened me more than my inevitable fate. The ebony eyes flashed with an instant of cold triumph then melted into their typical arrogance as the Prince of a dead race laughed.

The force of the deathblow knocked me out of the air and I fell backwards, the world suddenly slowed to a pulsing crystal clarity. I saw the way my armor was melting into the gaping whole that, once upon a time was my stomach, and I caught a glimpse of the charred remains of something that formerly throbbed with life. I saw Vegita smirk and the absolute lack of remorse on his face. His ki rose as he blasted off to… I didn't care where. He defeated me and was likely going after my master.

The master who sent me to my death. His arrogance, and mine, got me killed. 

At this point in my life, or what was left of it, one tended to regret. Did I regret the path my life took? 

Yes. 

Did I regret all the things that I had done to further my master's goals? 

Yes.

I had no goals of my own just to please my master. He was my leader, my ruler, and my god.

Oh, I was such a fool. Once…long ago, my master asked me if I was willing to die for him and at that moment I was. I would have given him anything. Now…now that that loyalty was being tested…I don't think I was. Something about this mission was different than the others. Maybe I was getting soft or perhaps it was just because this was the first assignment that had ever had something to do with the local folklore. I saw the look on my master's face the moment he heard of these Dragonballs. I saw the glint of sick anticipation and perceived in his mind there was no question of what he was going to ask for. Furthermore anyone who stood in his way was nothing more than so much ash.

My thick braid beat against what was left of my back as my decent quickened into an ear-popping pace. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, I wanted to cry. 

A tale told in the barracks is that one's life passes before one's eyes in the moment before what seems an inevitable death. All I saw were my mistakes. 

But, perhaps that was my life. My life was nothing more than one giant mistake. Freeza was not what he claimed to be. He was just a being, a mere mortal and he feared death more than anyone but he didn't know it. He hid behind his power and only by pure luck had he evaded beings stronger than he. He was no god and I was…I was a vain fool. 

The clarity began to fade but not back to my typical vision, it was fuzzy around the edges and I knew my time was near.

I hit the lake at a bone shattering speed and whatever mobility I may have had left was gone from me and I sank like a stone to the depths. I realized that in all this time I had not taken a breath of air. Why? Because only bits and pieces of my lungs remained clinging desperately to the remains of my upper torso.

My blood billowed out of the gaping wound turning the crystal clear water a sickening blue-violet. I sank deeper and the light started to dim. I observed a large native water dwelling creature swimming lazily overhead, ignoring me. 

I wasn't worth his time. 

Everything was a bit hazy now…either from lack of oxygen or blood loss. After all there was a big gaping hole in my gut…but…why wasn't I in more pain? Was it shock? Or was it merely a blessing from the local deity?  Not that I deserved it.

No matter. Few things mattered now. Not even the fact that my death was but a macabre race between blood loss and drowning. The mortal blow had missed both my secondary and tertiary hearts and now they feverishly pumped my blood out of my body through the wound.  My lungs ached from lack of air. 

Why wasn't I dead yet? 

My mind wandered again to what mattered. What really mattered? Was it the mode of my death? Was this the purpose of my life? To die here in this small lake on this misbegotten world, forgotten and forever lost to the cosmos? Only one being could give me that answer and I would be meeting it all to soon.

I was nauseous. The surface of the water rippled far above me, the sun's light was dancing across it, forever moving, forever changing. My limbs burned, my head throbbed and I would have vomited had there been a stomach to supply the refuse. 

Am I really blue? 

It seemed such an odd thing to wonder at a moment like this. It was a defining trait in my life yet it was an inanity. Was that what really mattered? Am I really blue or was it simply a trick of the light? An illusion? A cruel hoax from the mind of an insane god, or a blessing from a rational one? Or, was it the fact that the atmosphere from any given planet will absorb certain colors in the light spectrum and filter out others rendering something appearing blue on one planet, green on others. Am I really blue? Logically I am not. And logically I should have been worried about what fate was waiting for me on the other side. But logic cannot claim to be the master of an oxygen-deprived brain. No, what I was worried about should have seemed trivial and meaningless. I was irritated that I was to die in a body I hated. A knobby, warty form I loathed and saw only as a tool to further my master's goals. But the form was as much a part of me as was the handsome mammalian side that I favored. And yet I hated it. I hated it because on a deeper level I realized that that evil hideous creature I saw was my reality and the beautiful façade that I favored was the lie. I was a murderer and no amount of scented soaps and manicures would ever wash my hands clean of all the innocent blood I had spilled in the name of a false god.

Repenting was something someone who didn't want to face his actions would do. I would not repent. I deserved my fate. And I would accept its punishments gladly.

I laughed. My broken lungs forced the last of my air into small silvery bubbles, and with them the remains of my life. I watched them rise like a timid little soul journeying to the heavens, an image of simple beauty. Is that what mattered? The bubbles seemed to dance as if to acknowledge my realization. I smiled and closed my eyes. 

Was I crying? 

Indeed. But I'd never admit it. And the lake would tell no tales save for a few small silver bubbles popping on its surface.


End file.
